


Teenage Dream

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Diary of a Lonely Housewife [8]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: 1950's AU, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Cheating, Infidelity, M/M, capeless au, genderfluid tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:03:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Tim used to dream about Bruce Wayne as a teenager. He spent countless nights at parties studying him from across the room, thinking he'd be a silent dream for the rest of his life. But grown now, Tim has ways to make any man fall, and Bruce is no less susceptible than any of the other men Tim has taken to bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Time for the standard "wow why did this take so long" bit before a fic! Sorry everyone...
> 
> Anyway, [here's Tim's dress for the fic](http://cdn.topvintage.net/images/products/11659-92858-50s-darlene-polkadot-swing-dress-in-black-full.jpg)!
> 
> And also, [here's Bruce's car](http://fiftiesweb.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/50.chrysler.desoto.xtra_.jpg).

Tim leaned his chin on his palm, watching the rainy streets as they slowly moved by. It had been raining since morning, would have been the perfect Saturday to stay curled up in bed. Especially if Kon was there, if he’d laze about all day, never take his pajamas off- only shower if Tim dragged him there.

 

As it was, Kon had  _ plans _ , and Tim was being carted off for a few hours of social solitude. And he wasn’t  _ mad _ , Kon enjoyed time with Bart and Jaime and Tim was always welcome, but he still thought Bart needed a little more time. The last thing he needed was his friend breaking because he couldn’t keep their secret, letting Kon in on his dirty little secret-

 

Maybe it  _ was _ what he needed.

 

The car pulled up to the dinner, and Tim straightened up as Kon put it in park. They were close enough that Tim didn’t need his umbrella, but he twisted, reached for it in the backseat anyway. Maybe he wouldn’t stay here while the  _ boys _ were out. Maybe he’d get a single cup of coffee and then he’d wonder. Maybe the garage was open, maybe a certain smiling mechanic would give him the time of day-

 

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Kon asked, and Tim put on his bed  _ good wife _ smile.

 

“Of course not honey. Though… I’d rather be snuggled up in bed.” He leaned forward, slid his finger along Kon’s chest. Kon sighed, ending in a little chuckle as he reached up, covered Tim’s hand with his own and squeezed. He leaned over, kissed Tim’s cheek affectionately.

 

“Trust me darling, that sounds like heaven. But I promised them-”

 

“I know.” Tim straightened up, turning for the door and getting it open. “Don’t be late picking me up.” He climbed out, his purse hanging within the crook of his elbow. He didn’t open his umbrella, simply slammed the car door and hurried to get under the canopy to the diner, heading for the door as his heels clicked on the wet pavement.

 

The bell attached to it jingled when he got it open, announced his entrance. Thankfully, it seemed rather quiet- but mid morning on a Saturday wasn’t a very popular time. Mostly folks with their late morning coffee, giving the staff a warm up for the busy night ahead.

 

Tim headed for a booth, setting his umbrella and purse next to him. The waitress was pretty, asked how his husband was, took his coffee order without a second thought or needing to write it down. This was he and Kon’s  _ favorite _ diner in town, and they knew them well enough.

 

He reached for his purse, opening it and pulling out a worn paperback. He’d sit here and read, no one would mind. He’d pay for his coffee and give the girl a good tip, if he didn’t go for a walk. And if he did and Kon wondered why his heels were wet, well- he was restless. So very, very  _ restless _ .

 

He flipped open his book as the waitress set down his coffee, picking up where he had left off. But by the first page flip he heard the bell jingle on the door. His eyes glanced up- force of habit,  _ curiosity _ \- and he paused, watching as the man in the expensive suit headed for a booth set far back, away from the front and the rest of the diner.

 

Tim hummed. He  _ knew _ him, he knew. Something was tugging at his memory, and it took a moment of flipping through his mental file to put a name to a face.

 

But when he did, it took all his control to simply set his book down and not drop it.

 

_ Bruce Wayne _ .

 

Tim licked his lips. He hadn’t  _ seen _ Bruce in quite some time. Even living down the street from his  _ son _ didn’t bring him around- in fact, Tim wasn’t sure he could think of a time Bruce  _ had _ come to see Damian at home. And sure, he saw him in passing when he and Kon attended business events for his father’s business, but those were quick, brief. Usually Tim was busy getting champagne drunk and trying to find a small space behind a door to get his husband’s pants off in.

 

Tim drummed his fingers on his table for a moment. He watched the waitress disappear to go to his table, then head back quickly. And then, maybe because he was  _ bored _ and figured he had nothing to lose, Tim packed his book back up into his purse. He stood up, took a second to smooth down the black skirt of his dress, before he slid his purse up over his elbow, grabbed his umbrella in one hand and his coffee mug in the other, and  _ marched _ around the counter of the diner, towards the very back.

 

Bruce had the paper out, was hiding behind it. Tim watched him justle the pages, before he paused at the side of the table. Bruce didn’t look up at first, so Tim  _ made _ himself noticeable by setting his coffee mug down. Bruce partially closed the paper, probably assumed the waitress was back with his coffee, but when he looked up at Tim he paused, dark blue eyes going a little wide.

 

Tim put on his most fetching smile. “Hi Bruce,” he offered, “remember me?”

 

Tim _knew_ Bruce was not an overly social man, outside of his obligations.  He knew because Drake and Wayne relation had been going since he was a baby. And he wouldn’t be shocked if Bruce completely shoved him away. So when Bruce _smiled_ , Tim had to swallow down his heart was it tried to claw up his throat. “I do. Drake, correct?”

 

Tim nodded. “Tim,” he offered, shifting his umbrella, extending his hand. Bruce set his paper down, took it in his larger, warm hand, gave it a firm squeeze. “I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.”

 

“I see you now and then. Pretty thing like you is hard to miss.” Tim felt color rising on his cheeks, hadn’t  _ expected _ that. Bruce let go of his hand, gestured towards the spot opposite him. “Sit with me?”

 

Tim nodded, set his umbrella and purse down before sliding into the booth. He paused to brush his hair off his shoulders, show off the curves the wide neckline of his dress exposed, before folding his hands, setting them on the table. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you in a place like this. Don’t you have a butler that makes you coffee  _ personally _ ?”

 

Bruce chuckled, this gravelly rumble from his chest that made Tim squeeze his thighs together. “Sometimes it’s nice to get out,” Bruce admitted, just as his coffee was brought to him. He thanked the waitress, picking up the mug. “And you? You’re married, correct?”

 

Tim nodded, picking up his mug and taking a sip. “My husband is spending the morning with some friends of ours. I thought I’d give him a little space, catch up on some reading. Or take a walk.” Another sip.

 

“Not a very good day for a walk.”

 

“No,” TIm agreed, frowning slightly. “Sadly. What’s a girl to do, though? I guess I could have stayed home, but that seemed dull.”

 

Bruce smirked. “You don’t take well to being cooped up, do you? You sound like my son.” Tim noticed Bruce took his coffee black, and wondered if the bitter taste remained on his tongue. If it left his lips overly warm.

 

Tim would be  _ lying _ if he ever said he hadn’t harbored some sort of  _ crush _ on the man opposite him. After all,  _ who didn’t _ ? He was fairly sure some of earlier wet dreams were centered around Bruce Wayne. And  _ now _ \- well, Tim was convinced age had done wonders for Bruce. Peppered his dark hair, the sides almost completely gray.

 

He squirmed again, taking a sip of his coffee to hide the motion. Indulging in  _ that _ would be too much. It was a risk enough to have his way  _ once _ with his son- but Bruce Wayne himself? No. Too close to home, the man knew his family too well. And if they were caught, it was more than just a little scandal for his marriage he’d be dealing with.

 

“I never see you visiting Damian,” Tim pointed out, trying to steer the conversation in a safe direction.

 

Bruce stared down into his coffee. “Damian is not one to invite me to visit,” he pointed out, “and since he’s newly married, I wanted to ensure he and his husband had space.”

 

“How generous of you. I couldn’t keep my mother  _ out _ of my home when I first got married. Even my father.” Tim shook his head. “I swore I was going to have her barging in on my wedding night asking if I’d made sure to turn the coffee pot off and wipe down the counter and table.”

 

Bruce chuckled at that, and Tim shivered over the noise. He could feel his cock swelling against his panties, and cursed himself, but this was the sort of man that, if he could bring him to his knees, would make Tim truly feel like a queen, a goddess.

 

“I remember your mother being very… insistent.”

 

“ _ Annoying _ ,” Tim corrected. “You can be honest.”

 

“Dreadfully annoying, than. With horrible humor.”

 

“And an ill timed laugh.” They both flashed smiles. “But I say it with love,” Tim added, and Bruce nodded.

 

“Yes, no doubt.” Another sip of his coffee, and the mug was already half empty. Tim leaned his elbows on the table, studied Bruce over the rim of his mug- and when the man looked up, he held Tim’s stare. Held it and those eyes burned with something that made Tim’s breath catch. “You know,” Bruce said, setting his mug and reaching out, brushing his fingers along Tim’s wrist. “Seems a real shame to keep you cooped up anywhere.” He guided Tim’s hands down, until his mug rested on the table. “How about a little drive? I’ll have you back before your husband misses you.”

 

Tim swallowed thickly. There was so much  _ promise _ in those words, and he told himself not to read into them too much- but Tim  _ prided _ himself in knowing when someone was interested, and Bruce was showing all the telltale signs.

 

He nodded instead of a verbal answer, took a final sip of his coffee as Bruce folded the paper and stood up. Tim followed, was grabbing his purse as Bruce dropped some money on the table for both their coffee, before moving up to him. He placed a hand on the small of Tim’s back, and Tim couldn’t help it- he leaned back into the touch.

 

Bruce guided him through the diner, out the doors to stand belong the small overhang. “Give me a minute,” Bruce said, fishing his keys out, “I’ll bring my car around.” Tim nodded, watched Bruce hurry out into the drizzle that was still coming down. The burgundy car that pulled up was too  _ nice _ to be out in this, but Tim walked towards it with his chin held high, swaying his hips because it wasn’t too nice for  _ him _ .

 

He opened the door and slid in, tugging it shut just as Bruce pulled away. Tim set his purse and umbrella at his feet, reaching up to brush his hair back, pat the water from it. “Nice car,” he said, glancing around, thinking it seemed so different from the powder blue thing he and Kon drove- and yet  _ that _ had been pricey, he knew. He’d picked it out himself.

 

Bruce only smiled, pulling into the light Saturday traffic. It seemed most people were staying indoors, avoiding the rain, exactly how Tim had wanted to spend his day. He sighed, and Bruce’s eyes slid over to look at him for a moment, before looking back at the road. “You’re thinking something.”

 

“It’s silly,” Tim admitted, hands sliding along the black skirt of his dress. “Really.”

 

“Try me.” Bruce had this little smile, and Tim squirmed over it, feeling a little breathless, wanting to reach over, to get his hand on his thigh- to ask him if he was reading this wrong.

 

“I’m jealous,” Tim admitted, as they turned a corner. “I wanted to spend today inside. I wanted to keep my husband to myself- preferably in our bed. Or any room in the house he saw fit, really.” Tim shook his head, blushing lightly. “You don’t need to hear this.”

 

Bruce took another turn, and if Tim would pay attention, he’d notice the city was giving way. “Your husband is a fool for going anywhere,” he offered, and Tim perked up slightly.

 

“Really?”

 

Bruce nodded. “You’ve always been lovely, and how anyone ever walks away from you is a mystery to me.” Tim felt his cheeks flaring up darker. He had to look away, stare out the window as the city gave way to roads with sparser buildings. He swore he’d had dreams of Bruce saying similar things to him, as a teenager. Used to stand across the room at those expensive parties his dad liked to throw and just stare, over his one glass of champagne for the night. Used to sneak off and pretend it wasn’t his own hands pushing his dress up, but Bruce’s-

 

Tim decided in that moment that this was a gift, this solitude with the man that kick started so many fantasies. And it would be a  _ sin _ not to take advantage of it. “Bruce?” he asked, and the man hummed, dutifully looking at the road. “Find a safe place to pull over.”

 

Bruce’s eyebrow quirked, but he didn’t question it. Tim watched as he veered off the road, a minute later, pulling off into a little roundabout, surrounded by thick, tall trees. Bruce shut the car off, settled back, gave Tim a moment to collect himself, to find the courage in his heart to go for what his teenage desires screamed for, years ago.

 

He leaned over the center console, gripped it with his other hand as his fingers skimmed over Bruce’s chest, beneath his jacket. Tim leaned in close, puffed a breath against his lips. “If I’m reading this wrong, if I’m wrong about  _ you _ ,” Tim whispered, “turn this car around. Forget this ever happened, and I’ll file it away as a missed fantasy. But if I’m right- if you want this, Bruce, for  _ god’s sake if you want this _ , kiss me…”

 

There was a single, long, aching moment where nothing happened. But then one of Bruce’s large hands was cupping the back of Tim’s head, pulling him in, warm lips pressing right to Tim’s. Tim moaned, pushed up closer, moved his mouth in heavy drags as Bruce’s other hand moved around him, his hand cupping Tim’s ass. Tim gasped, bucked and wanted to be  _ against _ him, grasped at his shirt and dragged his teeth over his lower lip. He got the smallest noise from Bruce, a rumble from his chest, and Tim was climbing over the console and right into his damn lap.

 

It was worth the struggle, how Bruce was  _ large _ beneath him. Tim’s thighs stretched to straddle his waist, as he pushed flush to his chest, draped his arms over his shoulders and car seat. “You kiss like I used to dream,” Tim whispered, kissing Bruce again. Bruce’s hands went to his hips, began bunching Tim’s dress up slowly. Tim squirmed, got his knees off it until Bruce could reach below it with both hands, slide them up the backs of Tim’s bare thighs.

 

“What did you used to dream about?” Bruce asked, finding Tim’s ass and squeezing. Tim mewled, drew his hands back to card them through Bruce’s short hair, reveling over the fact that he looked  _ better _ now that the gray was settling in than he did when Tim was a kid, a teenager.

 

Age had been so,  _ so _ kind to Bruce Wayne.

 

Tim’s nails scraped against his scalp as Bruce kneaded his ass, dragged his tongue along Tim’s pretty lips and then pushed it into his mouth. He tasted faintly bitter like his black coffee, and Tim liked it, wondered what it’d be like to wake up sprawled in Bruce’s huge bed, to kiss the coffee fresh off his mouth-

 

To get his cock between his lips while Bruce tried to keep his hand steady on his mug, while he read the damn  _ paper _ . 

 

“You, at all those  _ parties _ ,” Tim whispered, feeling his cock twitching, hard already and straining in his panties. “With your mouth tasting like  _ champagne _ , kissing me around the corner where everyone could have found us.” Tim shivered as two of Bruce’s fingers slipped through where his panties clung to one leg, gripping at the pure flesh. “You getting your hand in my dress and jerking me off, telling me I was the prettiest girl there.”

 

Bruce groaned, bit at Tim’s lip, drew a whine right out of him. “What if I said you were,” he whispered, his fingers slipping between Tim’s asscheeks. It stretched his panties but Tim didn’t care, as they teased his hole, pushing against it, tracing the ring of muscles. “What if I said you still were?”

 

“I’d say take me in the backseat,” Tim mumbled, “like I’m  _ your _ teenage wet dream.” Bruce grasped his ass then, shoved Tim forward so he sprawled out against the steering wheel. Bruce pressed his mouth to Tim’s exposed throat, sucked gently, left the skin flushed but not otherwise marred- and something about the fact that Tim didn’t have to  _ tell _ him that his husband couldn’t know made it  _ hotter _ .

 

His mouth busy at Tim’s neck, Bruce still managed to reach for his door, grasp the handle and get it open. Tim heard the echo of the rain suddenly louder without the barrier, before Bruce was hauling him up, able to slip out beneath him. Tim stayed as he was, draped back, as through the rain Bruce pulled open his back door. Then he was back, reaching in, lifting Tim- throwing him over his shoulder. Tim howled a laugh, tipped his head back and grinned.

 

He’d fantasized about Bruce throwing him over his shoulder, hauling him to the nearest table and tossing him down onto it, fucking him next to the damn silver platers everything was served on, knocking over glasses of champagne…

 

Bruce bent over, eased Tim into the back seat. Tim tried to crawl back, give him space, not caring about the rainwater in his hair now, clinging to the curves of his exposed shoulders. He took the time to shed his jacket, toss it over his seat, and then he was crawling in, just managing to get the door shut.

 

Tim opened his legs, let Bruce shove his dress right up his thighs, and then over his hips. The shape of his cock was obvious in his panties, pressing against the minty colored silk. Without a word Bruce bowed his head, kissed the inside of one soft thigh, than the other. Tim bit his lip, whined against it when Bruce kissed the base of his cock, through his panties. And then slowly up, along the shape of his shaft, before he was sucking at the head, his tongue pushing against the fabric.

 

Tim arched, lifted one leg and dug his heel into the top of the seat. “Bruce,” he gasped, as Bruce’s hands rubbed his thighs, before moving higher, hooking into the waistband of his panties. “ _ Bruce _ .” More desperate now, wanting and wanting  _ and wanting _ , and Tim didn’t think he could handle being teased. He’d had  _ how _ many years since he hit puberty of being teased by Bruce’s very existence, and actually having the man actively try to work him up-

 

It was too much.

 

It was  _ glorious _ .

 

Bruce peeled Tim’s panties down, until just the head of his cock was exposed, pinned by the elastic to his belly. Bruce’s tongue ran over it, hot, and Tim shuddered, keenig. “Don’t- don’t tease me,” he panted, feeling the color and heat rushing to his cheeks. Feeling like he was a teenager all over again and he had his hand shoved down his panties as a party, hidden around the corner and listening to Bruce’s laugh.

 

“I bet you would be fun to tease though,” Bruce mumbled, moving back to Tim’s thighs. He rubbed his cheek against one, and his grey peppered stubble scratched the skin, but god Tim loved it. Tim wanted Bruce to eat his ass, to leave a red burn behind on his cheeks. Wanted his thighs angry and screaming from it.

 

Wanted to remember this tomorrow, and for the rest of eternity.

 

Bruce pushed himself up, and Tim lifted his legs up straight, hit the damn roof of the car with his heels as he worked his panties off. He heard Bruce give a guttural groan, and was slow to lower and spread his legs, pulling his dress up higher so it pooled around his ribs.

 

“My purse,” Tim said, reaching a hand down and wrapping it around his cock. “What you need is in there- unless you don’t plan on fucking me…” Tim squeezed, felt a bead of precum sliding down his shaft, over his fist. “Which would be a damn  _ shame _ .”

 

He watched Bruce lean between the seats, reaching for Tim’s purse. He popped it open, shifted past the paperback, and when he dropped it on the seat, came back holding the bottle of lube Tim carried, Tim smiled. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and listened as it was opened, focused on Bruce’s breathing, until two slick fingers were sliding beneath him, pressing against his hole.

 

Tim moaned, was lazily stroking his cock, trying so hard to keep himself in check. He wanted to thrust into his fist, wanted to chase the excitement coursing through him. But he wanted Bruce to fuck him senseless more than he wanted an orgasm in the next ten seconds. He could be  _ patient _ . For a minute or two.

 

Bruce eased his fingers in, and TIm’s breath caught. They were thick, exactly like he’d always known they were, and his mind reeled in the way they made him feel stuffed, made him quiver. His hole tightened, and Bruce chuckled, leaning forward and kissing his pelvis, turning to brush his mouth against Tim’s knuckles as his hand moved. “You want me,” he mumbled, hooking his fingers, making Tim cry you. “Feels like you could devour me.”

 

“I could,” Tim breathed, “fuck, faster. I don’t want to wait.”

 

Another chuckle, as Bruce kissed up towards his navel. “Spoiled princess,” he whispered, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh of Tim’s belly. Tim’s head was spinning already. “Do you demand this of every man you meet?”

 

“Yes,” Tim admitted, “if they  _ interest _ me.” He felt Bruce scissoring his fingers and sighed blissfully. “Men beg just to have the chance to worship me.”

 

Flashes of Jason, of Dick, Bart,  _ Damian _ \- all of them in his head. Of Roy, of all the dirty moments he’d shared with others secretly. And then finally Kon, in their own bed, falling for him, to him, like every other hand in his life.

 

Bruce’s fingers pulled free, and Tim heard the slide of his zipper. He stilled his hand, reached down to cup his balls, expose his hole further, as he tried to simply breathe. Tried to wrap his mind around the fact that this was happening, that he was going to have  _ Bruce Wayne _ .

 

He was going to hold, for a brief moment, power over one of the most influential men in Gotham.

 

Bruce leaned over him, one hand braced on the seat, next to Tim’s head, the other wrapped around his own cock, holding him steady. His head pressed to Tim’s hole, and Tim let his thighs tremble with anticipation, let himself try to grind into Bruce. There was no way to hide how badly he wanted this, needed it,  _ had to have it _ .

 

Bruce snapped his hips, was nestled inside Tim’s body in a single fluid moment. Tim tipped his head back, mouth falling open, and then Bruce’s other hand was on the seat as well. He bracketed him in, pistoned his hips quickly, and Tim let himself cry out. He hooked one leg around Bruce, reached up and grasped at his shoulders, nails digging into his jacket.

 

“Bruce, Bruce,  _ Bruce _ .” His name fell like a mantra, and Brue bowed his head, huffed his panted breath over Tim’s chin and neck.

 

“So pretty,” he managed, his words shaking with the sheer force he was using to drive into Tim. Tim would ache down to his core until tomorrow, he was sure. And Tim  _ wanted _ it that way. Bruce’s lips ghosted Tim’s chin, and Tim lifted his head enough for a messy kiss. Bruce’s mouth was heavy on his, choked the breath from him, and Tim wrapped his arms further around his shoulders, kept himself even closer. When the kiss broke he nestled into Bruce’s neck, whined in his ear, feeling his entire body going to pure fire.

 

This felt like everything he’d wanted. This felt like all his dreams coming true before his very eyes. It was filthy and quick and  _ wanton _ and Tim wouldn’t have had it any other way. Bruce was thick like he had dreamt about, had told himself he was when he fantasized. He smelled like expensive cologne and his little grunts and growls had Tim shaking, had Tim feeling small.

 

He was pinned. He was beginning to feel powerless. He  _ never _ felt powerless…

 

And yet it was pleasing. It had his cock throbbing, leaking precum all over his belly as he clenched up around Bruce, over and over again, on the very verge of orgasm. “Pretty thing,” Bruce mumbled, as Tim dragged his mouth along his jaw, the stubble prickling against his lips. “What dreams are made of.”

 

Tim whined, moved one hand to Bruce’s hair, dug it in and pulled, forced Bruce’s head to jerk back, so he could suck at his throat. He pressed his teeth against the skin, wanted to bite and mark and claim so everyone would know that for just a few minutes, this man was his.

 

“Tim,” Bruce breathed, and Tim surged up at the sound of his name, meeting each thrust harder, until he couldn’t stop himself, was screaming so damn loud his throat ached as he come. Cum splattered his belly as his body clutched Bruce tightly, pulled him in deeper, tried to hold him. But Bruce’s thrusts only grew rougher, lost rhythm and became just a driving force that propelled Tim through his orgasm, straight out of his mind and into a sort of delirium he lived for.

 

Vaguely, he felt Bruce come. He heard his grunts and the growl he let out, felt the heat and the stutter of his hips. But Tim was so blissed out it was hard to focus on. Because he’d gotten what he wanted, all of it, everything he’d dreamed of since he was a teenager.

 

He was living a pure dream for just a single morning of his life.

 

When Bruce finally pulled out, Tim forced himself to focus. He sat up slowly, one hand holding his dress up to keep it from getting into the mess on his belly. Bruce pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and Tim was ready to take it- but he was reaching forward, cleaning Tim up himself. It was tender, and Tim sighed, smiled to himself as Bruce took his time. When he was done, folding it up so it couldn’t make a mess and tucking it away, Tim let his dress slide down.

 

“Your husband is going to miss you,” Bruce said, looking like he didn’t want to let Tim go. He reached up, cupped his cheek. “Such a shame to let you go.”

 

Tim turned, kissed the ball of Bruce’s thumb. He knew better than to tell him he could have him again. Knew better than to think he’d ever get a moment like this again in his life. Bruce was tied to his life in too many ways, and like Damian, would have to give him a single memory to burn for the rest of his lonely nights.

 

Tim nuzzled his hand, kissed down to his wrist, before letting Bruce tug him in to kiss him again, as the rain echoed off the roof of the car, finally breaking past the umbrella of pure bliss Tim had been under and sinking into his skull, as he allowed reality back in.

 

The ride back to the diner was quiet. Tim brushed his fingers through his hair, tamed it and tried to not squirm. When they finally pulled up, Bruce parked the car, allowed Tim to sit in silence with him.

 

“I can walk you in,” he offered, but Tim shook his head.

 

“Best that you don’t.” He turned, leaning over, brushing his lips sweetly against Bruce’s cheek. “Might cause someone to talk. And I can’t have that.”

 

Bruce smiled, turned and cupped Tim’s cheek. He dared to steal a single proper kiss, right there where anyone could have seen, before allowing Tim to pull back, to gather up his purse and umbrella.

 

There was no goodbye. Tim was glad for it, as he opened the door against the rain, hurrying under the overhang of the diner and in the glass doors. The rain only sprinkled his hair, didn’t trickle down his neck as his heels clicked against the floor. He made his way back to his  _ original _ booth, settling back down to pull his book out.

 

He ordered another cup of coffee. If anyone questioned where he had gone so suddenly, no one said a word. If the world talked, they kept it hushed. And Tim thought that was for the best.

 

After all, Kon would be back soon. And Tim was ready to play the ever perfect wife, as he had that morning, before giving into what really lay inside him.

 


End file.
